The light faded slowly, leaving only the echo of its brilliance in the air. Dust drifted through the vast chamber like snow, settling on shattered fragments of crystal and scorched stone.
The group lay scattered across the floor, groaning as they tried to rise. The scent of burnt air and ozone hung thick.
Lyra was the first to move. “Eryndor?” Her voice cracked as she crawled toward the platform.
He was standing perfectly still — too still — in the centre of the room, the faint glow beneath his skin pulsing with each beat of his heart. His eyes shimmered with silver light, but there was something else in them now: a depth that hadn’t been there before.
“Eryndor,” she said again, reaching out to him. “Can you hear me?”
He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto hers. “I can hear you.” His
